The OC Army: Short Stories
by the time and effort
Summary: This is a collection of one shots of characters that I have collected from my SYOC story.  This will, hopefully, turn into a full story but for now it's just short stories. No more characters please.
1. Character Shorts 1

**I don't own**** Percy Jackson and the Olympians**

**So after much consideration I have finally decided to a chapter on each character to understand better how the characters will interact and also get feedback on my interpretation of everybody's characters. So without further ado… **

**Jezebelle:**

It was intolerable, unbearable, but I kept running. Sprinting full speed only brought on by the belief that if you stop you will die. And I cried. Out of fear and out of grief I cried. But I kept running.

Sage was bounding just ahead of me with apparent ease on what had recently been revealed furry goat legs. She looked back, dread and fear painting her features and I knew at once that the beast was catching up. She shouted encouraging me to continue and run faster, but I was at my limit. My pathetic little human legs were simply incapable of propelling me any faster.

I dared not look back to see the slobbering giant that pursued us. Instead I ran with as much intensity as I could muster without tripping over myself. We sprinted up the bridge that overpassed the freeway before Sage turned around, leapt over my head, and clobbered the monsters bulbous belly with her weapon of choice. A big stick.

When she landed she had just enough time to leap out of the way of the giant's massive hand. I stopped and watched their struggle for a moment before I realized that Sage was hopelessly out matched. She ducked and dodged gracefully but when she hit he was utterly unfazed.

I immediately took action. The fight had wandered in to the street where the giant one-eyed monster was trying to throw cars at Sage. They fought across one and a half lanes of traffic leaving me with plenty of space to get behind the Cyclopes. In the dark and with his attention directed at Sage, I suck up behind the monster and threw my full body weight at him.

The weight of a nine year old girl did little more than outrage the giant. His split and yellowing fingernails clawed at his back as if to scratch an extremely irritating itch staggering back a few steps towards the edge of the bridge. I scrambled up to the beasts head, swung a leg over each shoulder, grabbed a fistful of ear in each hand, and threw my weight backwards.

The giant staggered back another half step and reached for me again. Not about to surrender to slobbering moron of a monster I threw my weight back again. This time I was heavier. No, not heavier. Some outside force was pulling me back. I could feel darkness embrace me and guide me to where I wanted to go.

The giant had now staggered back to the edge of the bridge. He was struggling to gain balance as I tried to dismount him. Fortunately Sage managed to jump up to the face of the monster, grab me, and lunch us safely to the bridge while the Cyclopes toppled over the edge.

At that moment I felt the embrace of darkness again and let it consume me. When I woke up I was in a chair in a big open hallway with people wandering up and down it. Various smells floated through the air the most distinct being the smell of cinnamon. That's when I noticed Sage in the seat next to me with a pair of Cinnabon breakfasts.

"How are you doing," she asked.

I opened my mouth and tried to force air through it before I coughed realizing my throat was in fact incredibly dry.

Sage handed me a bottle of water which I eagerly gulped down until my lungs demanded oxygen.

"Thank you," I choked out.

"No problem," she replied.

She then handed me a cinnamon roll and we ate in silence. As I ate that cinnamon roll I got the chance to reflect for the first time on what had happened last night. What had happened? One second my dad was tucking me in to bed and the next he was…The next second he was laying down his life so that I could escape.

My sob was muffled by the cinnamon roll I was biting in to but it also caused me to bite my tongue. The pain was a welcome distraction from the grief boiling in my stomach that was threatening to make me vomit. No matter the pain, however, all I could see were my father's smiling eyes.

I didn't understand. He faced his death with a smile on his face. Why? Did he want to leave me? Didn't he know that his death would bring only misery to world? But, of course, that's not what his smile meant at all. He wasn't happy that he would die. He was happy that he could save his daughter. He was happy that he so completely lived for something beyond himself, but I wouldn't even begin to realize this for another six years.

**Sparkie:**

"Kids, you'd better get going before you miss the bus again," my mom called out to me and my brother and sister.

As usual I was running late because I had to wait for Coll to take his 45 minute shower. I know he definitely doesn't need 45 minutes to shower. He just does it so I'll miss the bus and be late to school, but not today. Today I was prepared. I had laid out my clothes, organized my backpack, and packed my lunch last night so today I was ready to throw my clothes on, grab my backpack and sprint out the door just in time to catch the bus.

I walked down the aisle to the back of the bus where my mortal friend Michael hopping over the feet that ever so discretely moved in to the aisle as I walked by.

"Hey Mike!" I said bright as the morning sun.

He acknowledged with an exasperated, "Humph."

I chuckled and said, "What kind of greeting is that? It's not even a word. Aren't you glad to see me?"

"Before eight o'clock? Most days I'm glad you're late so I don't have to put up with your 'good morning' attitude," but even as he said it a smile played at his lips.

"Only most days?" I taunted.

"Well there was that one time you brought me coffee," he said.

"You told me that tasted like mud," I told him.

"Did I? Huh, I guess that means you still owe me a good cup of coffee," he said and we laughed.

The bus arrived at school and we wandered to our lockers meeting up with a few friends along the way. The conversation grew with each added member, drifting homework, to teacher, to what the plan was for the upcoming weekend. It was all very normal especially for someone like me.

The bell rang and everyone shuffled to their classes. I personally drifted to the English room where I had to sit through a lecture on _Romeo and Juliette. _ Now, I don't have a problem with Shakespeare, but listening to teachers talk is simply a waste of time. How am I supposed to understand a _play_ written 500 years ago if I can't see what's happening. And when he talks he doesn't even mention the god stuff like how he made up the word puke or could insult someone in about a trillion different ways.

So my mind went off on its own tangent about my late half-brother. Shakespeare, like me, had been a son of Apollo. At Camp Half-Blood we had a biography on Shakespeare that was so detailed you could find the location of the toilet he was sitting on when he thought of _Macbeth._ But of course the teachers and the rest of the class would call me crazy if I ever spoke out against Shakespeare's pure Christianity so I kept my silence.

The day continued on as usual and it wasn't until lunch that any problems occurred that I couldn't just ignore.

"Oi, Sparkie," a deep gravelly voice called out.

I turned around being sure to make a loop instead of just pivoting. I learned early on that if you didn't change the location of your head when you turned around you would probably get hit in the face. And sure enough as I stepped out to the side a basketball flew by where my head had just been.

The name of the assailant was Ben. A big fellow with a big ego and big feet. I know he has big feet because he regularly tries to trip me.

"Hey, Sparkie I noticed you on the bus this morning. Did you finally learn how to read the clock?" said Ben with a chuckle.

Did I mention how clever he is? He still got a few chuckles out of the group surrounding us. Human social hierarchies are truly amazing.

But I laughed the loudest and brightest. "Whew, that was good Ben. You got to love the classic dyslexia joke. Ha!" I said after I had gained everyone's attention.

Ben eyed me cautiously and everyone around was watching him to see how he would respond after only a moment he said, "Ha, Yeah you really are stupid huh."

What incredible wit. I couldn't decide if he had ignored my obvious sarcasm or simply didn't see it but it didn't matter. I just chuckled and said "Yeah, see you later Benny," as I turned and walked away.

When I sat down at the table with my friends there were joke s and laughter, but the rest of my day consisted of daydreaming about camp. Between Coll and Ben I was ready for a little summer fun in the sun.

**Please review especially on your character. Thanks.**


	2. Character Shorts 2

**I don't own**** Percy Jackson and the Olympians**

**So I am now officially no longer accepting character. Seeing as I already have an army I decided it's probably time to get realistic and start trying to center them all around a plot. I will continue to write the character shorts under this story but by the end of tomorrow the title will change to "OC Army Short Stories"**

**Autumn:**

Going to camp was hard. After being raised in the woods by dryads it was hard to be surrounded by all the busy campers coming and going to activities, chatting with friends, and restlessly going about their lives. I don't know anyone at camp who just drifts with the waves of lake.

But that's nymph behavior, to take life slower because they lived longer, and as it turned out she was not a nymph. Still I just can't seem to adjust to the busy lives these campers all lead. It's been three weeks since I arrived at camp and I had just been claimed by Poseidon last week but even my cabin mates seemed to think I was strange and had no time to get to know me.

Well, except Percy. Percy was one of the oldest campers and the senior member of the Poseidon cabin, but he did his best to make me feel welcome. He was genuinely kind and curios about my past and listened when I talked, but between running the cabin and his own children he got pretty busy. He took it all in stride, though. He was busy and, from the look in his eyes, you could tell he always has been but he always found time for you, always made time to listen.

But unloading everything on to him wasn't fair. He has more important things to do and I don't want to make myself look like a whiny baby in front of anybody, so instead I have to find my own way. I need a friend. I wish Cypress were here. She'd know how to cheer me up. We would go swimming for hours and relax in the sun and laugh and joke, but this is my home now and she'd tell me that.

"_You're not a dryad_," I could already hear her say. "_You need to be with people like you, people you can grow up with and a community you can become so integrated in to that it is your home and the people in it become your family_."

There was no use arguing with her. It was clear that even as a daughter of Poseidon I would never fit in with the dryads. But I've lived with them for so long that I don't know how to be a demigod.

"Maybe today during the free portion of the day I'll go play volleyball or something," I thought to myself not really believing it.

"Oof," I said as I unconsciously ran in to the boy that had just walked around the corner.

"Sorry," he said helping me up.

"It's fine," I said brushing off my jeans and avoiding eye contact.

"Hey," he said, "you're that new Poseidon girl, Autumn right?"

I only nodded. I had been so alone for the past three weeks that I hadn't even considered someone might know my name.

"Rowan Westly," he said offering me his hand.

I timidly shook it and said, "Good to meet you."

His smile grew more brilliant and he said, "Hey, me and some friends are going swimming out in the lake during break if you'd care to join us?"

Now I began to grin. "Sure," I said.

"Cool," he said. "I'll see you there." He gave a little wave as he walked off.

I waved back barley able to contain my excitement as I walked to my morning Latin session. Maybe it had been only a short exchange, and maybe we weren't friends yet but it was progress. I hadn't made a fool of myself and I was going to hang out with Rowan and some of his friends. A social activity that wasn't instructed by an adult. I'll probably go and end up creating a whirl pool, but at least I won't be so alone.


	3. Character Shorts 3

**I don't own**** Percy Jackson and the Olympians**

**ALL CHARACTERS SUBMITED BEFORE THE DEADLINE WILL BE USED AND NONE AFTER THE DEADLINE WILL BE USE. Not that anybody has submitted a character after the deadline this not was just to make sure everyone realized that their character would be used.**

**Nikki:**

Today was an exciting day for no other reason than the capture the flag game that would take place that night. Granted capture the flag was played often enough at Camp Half-Blood that to most people it was something to do, but not for Nikki. She loved everything about capture the flag. The adrenaline rush, the thrill of competition, and the stakes.

There was almost no consequence for losing. Not like back in her old life where losing a fight meant severe bodily harm. Back in her old neighborhood you had to win, and because there was such a need to win no strategy was too pathetic. Whatever you need to do to survive. No referee calling low blows.

The horn sounded and I raced across the line. My squad and I were supposed to lead an attack against the Ares team's right flank. I was running near the middle of the pack on our left flank. If we met resistance from the front I was in in a perfect position to press barrel through them and continue on to get the flag. If it was an ambush however we would be surrounded but the Ares team didn't have sufficient force to commit to capture all of us so I would be in a position to escape and continue on toward the flag probably meeting up with another of our squads sent on the capture mission.

But the Ares cabin wasn't subtle enough to set a trap even though our team had at least a dozen to tie up there forces long enough for our capture team to retrieve the flag. So I was not surprised when a band of Ares foot soldiers launched a head on attack. As expected I was able to force my was through by ducking behind my shield and sprinting full speed through the enemy causing confusion and forcing them out of position while breaking through and sprinting toward where their flag would undoubtedly be.

As expected the flag was in the open clearing with on top of a boulder. The terrain made the position easy to defend but it was extremely predictable the guards were already distracted by two members of the other capture squad. So I began my assent to the flag.

One of the guards noticed me, but it was too late. I had made even ground with him so now we were on an even playing field while he was distracted by my team mate swinging at his heels. Needless to say he was quickly put on his butt and after that it was only a moment before he and his buddy were made our prisoners.

While my team mates secured the prisoners I took a moment to stand over them victoriously, grinning wickedly. Then I turned toward the flag and strode toward it. There was no more time to waste. This game was over and it would be my victory and my glory.

I reached out and grasped the blood red banner, and the conch immediately sounded. That wasn't right. The flag was supposed to be across the borders before the game ended. But that could only mean that we hadn't won. Somehow an enemy made it past all our traps and guards and back across the border in almost half the time it would have taken us.

That should have been impossible. Who could possibly have done that? Me and my ally's raced back to the border just in time to see black metal plate armor melt in to the back of the new Chinese camper who hadn't yet been claimed. Except now he had been claimed. A silver owl soared around his head.

Then I noticed my finger nails were digging in to the palm of my hand. Who was this kid who, after only a short while at camp, could march strait through the best laid plans of the Athena team in half the time it took me to capture the Ares flag. As Chiron made his usual claiming announcement I looked around at some of my teammates struggling to kneel because of bruises and injuries, and all I could think was how.

Then I looked back at him. His eyes drifted over to me and I seethed with a more violent rage. His eye's simply looked unto me utterly dispassionate. He didn't even care! I could see in his dark swirling eyes this was nothing to him! All he could do was stand and analyze everyone and everything around him.

When the kneeling had ended I stood up and stormed off. There was one thought that kept making me angrier and angrier. Next time there was a capture the flag game he wouldn't be on the Hermes team. He would be on the Athena team, my team, and I wouldn't get the chance to beat him.

**Not quite sure how this one went so be sure to review and make suggestions. And because someone has requested it here is the updated character list.**

**Ally Li **

**Trent Blackwood**

**Lene Von Tesheen**

**Nikki Sara Flighton**

**Autumn Krserda**

**Sparkie Coleman**

**Jez**

**Angel Speros**

**Brookie Isabelle Tainly**

**Harry Matt Clarke**

**Reine Inferum**

**Rowan Westly**

**Rain Glow**

**Will Aaron Emerson**

**Cesca Farell**

**Cassy Diaz**

**Raven Ellwood**

**Ponyboy West**

**Gale Farrow**

**Clare Benson**

**Grail Carthage**

**Flay Xunlei Li**

**Reed Mitchell**

**Jyn Amelia Maurez**

**Jay Dali**

**If you think I missed your character let me know and I'll be sure to get them on this list, but, again, I am not accepting any new characters.**


	4. Character Shorts 4

**I don't own**** Percy Jackson and the Olympians**

**I apologize for my prolonged silence, but I find I'm challenging myself with these new chapters more so, perhaps, than I can handle. I'm trying to add a certain depth to characters and I was going to but another short story in this chapter but it became unreasonable. You all deserve another chapter so I give you this and ask you to remain patience. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up but it will center around an interaction between two characters so I hope that will make up for some of the lost time. Again I thank you for your patience.**

**Lene Von Tesheen:**

My very life was a secret up to this day. No, people knew of me, and I had even come to believe I had friends, but they could not know me or it would spell the death of me and the rest of my family. Why, so suddenly, had "witchcraft" become so hated by the majority?

Father always said "It's because they don't understand it. They have forgotten the past and the origin of the power granted to everyman."

People didn't like it when he said things like that. When he called them stupid or ignorant, but he was a successful man and an expert in history so he was rarely challenged. Sometimes though he would spout off truths that came close to revealing our personal history of sorcery and I would feared they would come after us, but they always got this dazed expression and seemed to ignore everything that came close to the truth.

Until today. Father must have pushed it too far. He was a curios man and often enjoyed pushing his boundaries. So when he came home, frantic with worry, auntie Lavern immediately picked up on what had probably happened. They rushed around trying to quickly trying to pack up necessities while I stood trying to understand what had happened, growing extremely nervous sensing my family's worry.

I was already about to start screaming at my father and aunt when the doors burst open unleashing a mob of men that immediately grabbed me and shoved me so deep in the crowd I thought I must have been transported in to the middle of a horse stamped. But no, soon enough the men organized enough to seize me my father and my aunt and drag us, kicking and screaming, to raised platform at the town center.

I was too scared to feel all bumps and bangs as I was dragged up the stairs. I had barely noticed that my hands had been bound or that mud had been flung at me. All I noticed was man standing tall and proud in the most civilized attire I had yet seen. And he only had eyes for the three of us, my aunt, my father, and me. Never before had I seen with such intense and yet so vacant. It was as if his very soul had been pulled from his body and nothing remained but raw primordial hate directed at the three victims of the most wide spread misconception in the world.

"You," he spat, "have been charged with the most despicable crime of witchcraft a crime punishable by death. What have you to say for yourselves?"

"You are all fools," my father cried out. "If you would take the time to try and understand it you would see it is not magic at all. My only crime is the pursuit of unexplored knowledge, and if you kill everyone that share's this pursuit then civilization is doomed."

This only succeeded in aggravating the crowd. They booed and called out vile profanities and threw rocks. And the well-dressed man was now scowling and seething with barely controlled rage and he said, "Take them to the fields where they are to be burned at the stake!"

The mob was uproarious as they snatched us off of the stage and dragged me by the hair through the streets of town and on to the fields. It isn't a trial if the fate of the accused is predetermined. As was the case for us. When we arrived we found several men were already setting up the third steak to which we would be tied.

The crowd did not leave after we were tied. No, they were all too eager for blood, so they stayed and taunted us and smeared us in dirt and threw rocks… a lot of rocks. We all bled from the jagged stones but aunt Lavern got the worst of it. She had been growing frailer in her most recent years so every stone that struck cut and she quickly grew weary and drew short ragged breaths until peace at last. A final stone struck her temple and the light in her eyes faded and she fell limp, the weight of her body straining against the ropes that tied her body to the stake.

This sent the crowd into a jubilant uproar. Their thirst for blood temporarily satisfied they returned to the village to savor the ceremony that would come that evening. My father and I were left bruised and bleeding and gasping for breath. My head spun my vision was fogged and the aches of my body threatened to overwhelm me. I cried.

So consumed by my own grief I didn't even notice my own father hacking up blood. "Selene," he managed to say in a heartbreakingly ragged voice.

"Dad," I cried desperately following each drop of blood that dripped from his beard with my eyes.

"Don't cry Selene," he said. "You'll be all right. She'll come for you. Don't worry."

I knew he was talking about the supposed goddess that inspired his pursuits in magic. "Where is she dad? Why didn't she save aunt Lavern? Why doesn't she free us now?" I screamed enraged by his faith looking at the mark on his throat where a stone had struck.

He gave the response he had used before in such arguments. "The lives of mortals are intricately woven by the unseen forces of fate and the only fates the gods can directly affect are the fates of their kin."

"Are we not all kin? All children of the beginning and fathers to the end?" I said. "Why save me and not you?"

"Because these matters are not of such immense proportions," he said. "You are kin to the gods and I am a mere mortal."

This stunned me so my throat clenched and my eyes burned. "Mother?" I asked.

He nodded and choked on his own ragged breath and blood. "Help will come, all you have to do is ask," he said in a voice so ragged I could feel his throat swelling shut and hear his lungs strain to gather oxygen from the blood that he had swallowed.

"Dad, please!" I screamed my own voice hoarse with grief and fear.

But he could no longer answer. His breath grew quick and desperate, and as the sun set shadows were cast over his face grossly distorting his features so when the townspeople came at last they would be burning the horrible monster they all believed him to be. My brilliant and loving father was lost forever. The only memory of him would be the evil enchanter that never existed.

Finally as the sun sank beneath the horizon my sadness turned to anger. I released from my soul a feral wail that shook the leaves on the nearby plants. "If there is even a single god that watches over this earth then surly they must smite the vile monsters that would dare disgrace my father and aunt in such a manner! Mother! My father believed you were so I pray to you no matter what happens to me I ask that you avenge my family!"

Then I dropped my head exhausted. In the darkness I became aware of the town stirring, preparing for the ceremony. Suddenly a scream. And then light began to stretch out to me from the town. I looked up to the town ablaze. The air was now filled with pathetic wails of terror and pain. All I could do was stare at the flames in amazement.

"It's a shame," said a feminine voice.

I turned my head to find the silhouette of a woman examining, not the town, but my now dead father.

I realized it at once. "Mother?"

She looked at me with eyes that glowed like the moon. "Well?" she said, "did you get everything you wanted from me?"

My eyes filled with tears once again. "Only you were too late to save him."

"Yes, well…" she said grief apparent in her voice. "As he would say we must all face fate and death is an inevitable part of life."

"Does that mean you do not live because you will never die?" I asked a bit of venom returning to my voice.

She merely smiled and said, "You are your fathers a daughter. Always curious."

This elicited another pang of sadness. "But your fate has not yet arrived," said my mother. "So I grant to you immortality until your time comes." Just like that the ropes fell away and I collapsed. "I trust that your father provided you with the necessary skills to survive."

With that she turned and faded in to darkness leaving only a black scythe in her wake. "Thank you, Nyx… Mother."


	5. Character Shorts 5

**Will Emerson/Jon Clark:**

Justice is brought through anger. It's not the way the way it should be, but more often than not the consequences for ones actions are determined by the victim or the one with the most to gain. Not even a third party in a struggle is always perfect. People are always biased. That is why true justice can be guaranteed by assigning value to everything. But then how do you determine the value of time, or life, or the life of a baby versus the life of a murderer?

Will sighed in defeat at the infinite intricacies of ideal justice. When his father was alive they would discuss such matters at length always arriving at the same question they had initially asked. No matter how heinous the crime the situation always matters because you have to understand how a man justifies his actions in his own mind. But we can never really know how another man thinks. No one except father, it seemed.

Of course I don't really believe he could really peer in to the minds of the ones he was assigned to judge, but he always seemed to be able to take in every perspective and judge them against each other to find a fair judgment. But now he was gone and Will was left to ponder what justification fate found in his demise.

So here Will lay. Alone, at the top of this grassy hill with the sun beating down on his lidded eyes and the ancient leather book laying at his side while he fled the mortal world to the path to truth and justice that his father had set him on.

"Hey princess!" Maybe not as alone as he thought.

He lazily opened his eyes and sat up as a courtesy to whoever had so rudely disturbed him. He was unsurprised to find Jake and some of his Athenian brothers coming, no doubt to torment him to requite my patrons treatment of their cabin leader. Such are the constant woes brought to camp by Hera, my patron.

"Oh, sorry did I wake you?" he asked sarcastically.

There was no point in playing games with him. As cruel as he could be Jake was no idiot. He, like many of the Athena cabin, had a keen eye for weakness in his enemies and I was a regular target. No it was easiest to simply be honest and endure the tormenting.

"No," I said, "I was just pondering."

"Is that what you call it?" he said. "You realize that intelligent men usually ponder when they're conscious?"

A subtle insult with low impact. Nothing to be afraid of. No reason to run.

"Conscious or not the journey to truth is the same," I said.

"But how can you say that when some of us are actually pursuing truth while you bury yourself in books waiting for the truth to come to you?" he asked referring to my refusal to participate in violent activities.

"But surely you, of all people don't underestimate the minds ability to seek the truth independent from the world?" I say.

"But the mind only creates its own world thus keeping the truth of reality just out of reach," he said. "When you experience life you see the truth. But I forgot you've seen the truth and rejected it like a true fool raised on a fool's faith in justice."

And that was it. He insults my father and casts aside everything my father believed in. And I want to be angry I can't. Because I rejected violence I can only fall to fear and sadness.

"Hey," a new voice says, "what's going on here."

I turned to find the son of Hermes known as Jon Clark. Jon is pretty well known around camp for his pranking and mischievousness, but he's also known as one of the nicest kids you'll ever meet. It was just like him to stick up for someone, but at this point I don't think he can do much for me.

"Hey Jon," Jake said. "We were all just having a little discussion."

"Really?" said Jon walking straight up to Jake. "Well it doesn't look like Will is enjoying this 'discussion' too much."

"Well in every debate someone has to lose. Someone has to be wrong," said Jake shifting his gaze to me.

Jake was unaffected by the statement. "Well when majority rules you could hardly call this a fair fight."

"If you want a fair fight all you have to do is ask," Jake said.

"Go ahead. Make a move," was Jon's reply.

Then without warning Jake threw a punch at Jon's head. Jon narrowly avoided the assault put was thrown off balance leaving himself open. Jake was going in to finish the attack when he suddenly stopped with a knife pointed at his chest. Jake wore the most stunned expression as he stared at the knife that had, a minute before, been hanging from his belt, now pointed at his chest.

Jake glared at Jon and growled "Let's go," to his friends.

Jake then walked over to me grinning and twirling the knife between his fingers. I grinned at this boy's childish antics letting the tension from recent events fall from my shoulders.

"How did you do that?" I laughed.

Jon laughed and said "Athena kids think there so smart but they could learn a thing or two about a little sleight of hand."

I laughed some more. "Well thank you for helping me out," I said.

"Yeah, no problem," he said. "Hey, you want to get some real payback?"

"Uh… What exactly do you mean?" I asked.

"Just a harmless little prank," he said. "Come on. You don't really want to sit here reading for the rest of the day do you?"

I laughed again. "What's the plan?" I asked thinking to myself, as Jon's grin spread farther across his face, this friendship might just get me in to more trouble… but it'll be worth it.


End file.
